Outcast
by ArchangelDeath
Summary: Yea... I suck at summaries. just R & R!
1. Prolouge

_a/n: Ever since I first watched Avatar:TLAB, Waterbenders and their Water Tribes have always been my favorite of the four nations of the world, but I always wondered what would happen if a male Waterbender grew up in the Southern Water Tribe where the show only revealed a single female, my personal fave, Katara, as a Waterbender? Would the males of the tribe who had all been portrayed as knife, spear, club, and boomerang-weilding strong physical warriors accept him or shun his existence as an omen, despite their Waterbending brothers in the North? Well, here is my version of what would happen.Hope you enjoy._

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The South Pole was unsually quiet that cool evening, as if sensing the ominous events that were soon to initiate. The ocean cove of the Southern Water Tribe's isolated main isle stirred roughly for a moment, then became deathly still. The ocean is never idle. A large, dark ship appeared on the horizon. The entire hull was steel of an ugly, burnt complexion. At its stern a long, curved, sinister-looking spike arose. A series of structures came together in the middle of the ship as a looming steel tower. A single tube jutted from the tower, pumping out a thick cloud of steam and exhaust as an elderly man would smoke from a pipe, though the ugly stream of toxins was constant. A Fire Nation battleship. Truly, a frightening sight for anyone not in their favor.

But, its objective tonight was completely different. Yes, it had been disguised as a method to "check up" on the Southern Water Tribe, but its true aim was to deliver a very special package. The battleship, now in full view, had moored to the icy land of the Tribe's frozen tundra and a figure clad in black and scarlet was creeping to shore, a bundle wrapped in fine red silks clutched to its bosom. Another figure approached cautiously from the opposite side, coming from the villages. Warm, blue furs lined with white pelt and decorated with wavy, brown and tan patterns insolated their strong build and dark features. The two figures met halfway between the icy shore and the snowy outskirts of the villages.

The heavily clothed figure removed its hood to reveal a chestnut face lined with the hard aspects of a man who has suffered many harsh happenings. Despite, his coarse appearance, he broke into a large warm, but curious smile. " Ah, Amira," he greeted warmly, ignorant to the frigid snow falling around them. "I got your message, and what, daresay, brings you here on the coldest of nights? Too warm up there in the throne room of the Fire Nation?" Amira's eyes narrowed as she took in the man's calm ambience. So unlike her own stern, rigid, venomous one. She clutched her silk robes around her slender frame, though she felt no chill from the enviorment; her inner flame was enough for the coldest of climates.

Softening her espression, Amira brought her cool, snaky voice to the kindest of whispers. "My son, Eran ..." she began, going straight to the point. She never could stand waiting for anything, especially the focus of a conversation. "I can no longer keep him in my care, my-"

"Duties are too much too balance a child?" Eran cut in sharply, "Or are they simply on a much greater scale, devoid of another life?" Amira took in a sharp breath, obviously striken by his cold words. It took her a moment to regain herself.

"My position in the Fire Nation will put him in grave danger," she continued anew. "I don't want... I don't want him to end up living the same mistake I made. Because of me, he will never know his father..." Tears begin to well up in her amber eyes. "Please, Eran, I'm begging you, take him." She finally extended her bundle to him. A pale hazlenut crown peeped out from an opening.

"And why should I?" Eran asked coldly, his peaceful demeanor gone. "I'm never taking the burden for you ever again. Not at the cost of my own expandablity." He began to turn away when Amira's scream stopped him. A soft wailing added itself to the sound of rushing winds. He turned. Amira had fallen pitifully to her knees, arms holding her infant to the sky as if in offering to a god.

"Please!" she cried desperatly. "You can show him... how to love, to nurture and cherish everything precious to him. I can't even hold on to my own love! But you, you are everything he needs to grow and mature..." She dropped her head and dark hair whipped across her face, obscuring it. "Please..." Neither sibling moved for what seemed to be the longest time. Then, Eran slowly reached out and lifted the baby from his sister's clutches, shushing its cries as he brought its tiny body to his big warm chest. Amira, looking slightly relieved, stood shakily, brushing frosted tears from her eyes and bowing her head in his debt. "Thank you...brother."

Eran said nothing, but turned his back on her and began to walk back to the village. He stopped suddenly. "What is his name?"

"Shir," came a strangled whisper. Eran nodded and headed off once more. When he finally looked back she was gone, already upon the deck of the dark ship. He shook his head, sighing, then giving his nephew one last look, he hurried back through the village gates.

* * *

From her vessel, Amira looked back to the old village that had once been her home, and smiled; a warm, wistful smile. 

She never smiled.

_It's still though prolouge, of course, but still tell me what you think. This is my first fanfic and I wanna see how I'm doing. Don't know if it's all that great, though. Thanks eitherway._


	2. Tribal Tension

_New chapter done. Took a good chunk out of my sleep, but it was worth it! Enjoy and please review if you wish._

**Chapter 2**

Shir rose from silently from the thick bundle of fur covers set upon the futon he had called his bed ever since he was old enough to sleep in one. Quietly pushing aside the nearest flap of the sealskin tent so as not to wake his soundly sleeping uncle, he stepped over outside into the rest of their hut, shivering slightly as his bare feet met the cool bamboo floor. He always hated that part, and quickly moved onto the animal pelts that carpeted the other area of the hut. He found his clothes lying, neatly folded (so unlike his messy uncle's discarded haphazardly across the other side of the hut) under a length sealskin of sealskin for insulation and protection from any other harms. Shir removed the sealskin and slipped the dark, warm, skin pants over his legs, then pulled on a long sleeved navy shirt, wrapping the ends of the sleeves in white bandages to keep them closed. Lastly, he tugged the thick blue fur _anorak_ (parka) over his shirt, slipped on his dark mittens, and dragged his now wrapped feet into a pair of tan _mukluk_ (soft, Arctic boots also made of sealskin).

Shir glanced over at the precious mirror hung upon wall along with the many displays of headdresses, spears, and animal skins. His uncle had done quite a lot in his years. Warm, sapphire eyes stared back from a smooth chestnut face, looking worriedly at the condition of the long, dark russet hair seeming to stick out in every direction. Shir grabbed two three-inch navy tube bands and two normal bands from the table where his clothing had lain previously. Bands in one hand, he raised the other to a small bowl of icy water sitting atop the opposite facing table where his uncle's clothes _should_ have been.

Shir focused his chi and moved his quickly hand in one of the many long forms of Waterbending. A slender stream of water twisted up from the contents of the bowl. Shir moved his hand in a push-and-pull motion, coaxing the water closer. With a flick of his wrist, the water shot straight at his scraggly hair, soaking it thoroughly. Not wasting any time, he combed his shorter, neck length hair at the back of his head into a manageable style and made the very front of his hair into two long, shoulder-length tails, binding the thinner part of the tails under his eyes with the tube bands, and finally securing the thick, rounded ends with the regular bands. His hair had always been thick, but smooth like a pelt, and only a dousing of water would make it even slightly docile.

Now fully dressed and prepared for the day, Shir silently transgressed across the rest of the hut like a shadowy cat and grabbed his trusted whale tooth knife, shoulder bag, and striped waterskin from hooks near the the tented entrance of the hut. He soundlessly slipped through the threshold, tying it back behind him. The morning sun was just climbing over the icy peaks in the east, and its radiant rays, slanting down the winter slopes, washed the white terrain with golden-red light. Shir had always been an early starter as was his uncle whom would most likely be stirring now. Diving otter-penguins, slithering turtle-seals, and buffalo-yaks grazing on high snowy pasture-land cast elongated shadows on the frozen plains. The Southern Water Tribes were at humble peace once again, since the renowned Avatar had convinced the Northern Water Tribe to come rebuild their once bustling city with their esteemed Waterbenders. So far, the process has been a smooth and effective, but slow one.

The lost city's reconstruction had not yet reached Shir's tribe, but still remained on the very outskirts of the village. Lucky for him, though none of the other men of the Southern Water Tribe saw it as thus, a Waterbending school had been constructed at the most northern point of their island; the teacher, a wiry scholar in need of a job so desperately that he would be obliged to teach the "filty natives", or so he muttered under his breath when he thought no one was listening.

Though it was hard to believe now, once there had been only a single village housing almost less than two dozen inhabitants. But now, the population had boomed, though it only a fraction of the Northern Water Tribe's. However, they had still kept the Arctic village tradition alive despite the renovations. The main village, where it had seemed the last of the Southern Water Tribe would die out was now the central point of all the Southern Water Tribe's activity. The school was very near the landmark, and the was where he headed now, glad to be rid of the glares and jests from the men of the Tribe who had not risen as early as he did. A male Waterbender... in the Southern Water Tribe? It was unheard of; the art had been lost to a lone girl of several years past and now the women of the Tribe had regained the ability, but not the men, who still remained as fierce warriors unlike their homemaking counterparts. All the men, except Shir. He had showed very early signs of being a bender and had been shunned by the men. In a patriarchal tribalist system of governing, this was not good at all. He was lowest of the low in their eyes, a _gembira_. A faggot.

a/n: Sorry if this is any offense to anyone reading this. This is for writing purposes only and I only want it seen as such.

Shir was soon upon the main village, gazing up at the tall watchtower protruding from its center; the national insignia of the Water Tribe gleaming brightly in his sharp eyes: a circle containing a crescent moon and the waves of an ocean. The symbol represented the Moon and Ocean Spirits whom gave the Water Tribes their life and power and guided their beliefs. They coexist in harmony, the moon's force exerting the push and pull on the ocean's water. The Water Tribes' belief in peaceful cooperation among all nations had stemmed from the relationship of the two spirits. Shir bowed his head in respect, they had blessed him with their power, even if it had become of ill fate.

_The main village hasn't changed much_, Shir thought as he entered through its southern gate, avoiding the hard gazes of the two guards at the door. Still positioned on the northern shoreline, it remained surrounded by a roughly circular wall of snow, though it had been reinforced with gleaming ice plates. The residential tents that had once covered the inside had now been converted into more stable huts lining the western edge of the snowy wall just behind the large channel of water circling around the center of the village square, connected to an even larger moat-like streams surrounding the outer walls of all the other villages which then connected into an almost Venice-based water canal system to join all of the Tribes, courtesy of the aquaneers of the Northern Tribe as a method of advanced defense and transportation.

Just beneath the main watchtower in the village's center, a large fire pit blazed happily, beckoning several other early birds now setting up open air shops around it. The few men, of course, seemed to take no notice of Shir except to scowl, though the women gave him no trouble, even greeting him as he waved. One of them, a young girl of his own age broke off from her mother and hurried over to him, garbed in the same style clothing as his, though it was somewhat lighter, much more like a dress than pants and a coat as well as a light shade of purple that brought out her, violet-tinged eyes and dark, flowing hair. Sela refused to wear it in a plait or braid, thinking it as too confined, though she did whip most of it into a wild ponytail looping over her shoulder to keep it out of her face along with two hair loops running back into it.

"Shir," she greeted warmly, so unlike his male peers.

"Good morning, Liuka," he greeted back, glad to see his childhood friend. "Helping your mother with her herbal wares?" he asked, glancing over her shoulder to see her wise faced mother set up a booth and place various herbs in various glass containers on a brilliant blue silk display cloth. Sela nodded.

"Yeah, she managed to drag me out here," Liuka explained. Shir looked at her sternly, despite his age.

"You shouldn't say such things," he replied quietly at the sudden look on her face. She was silent as his cool eyes locked onto hers, going deep, deep into her very soul, searching her... Her heart raced and she turned her blushing face away from his, concealing her embarrassment by quickly changing subject.

"Your birthday is coming up, right?" she wondered, finally looking at him again, though her eyes seemed to be fixed on something at his shoulder.

"Yes, I'll be fourteen the day after tomorrow." Liuka suddenly, piped up, exclaiming,

"You must be excited. You can finally go ice dodging!" Shir's sad expression seemed to fizzle out her flame.

"It's a tradition for father and son," explained Shir. "There's no way, _they'll _let me participate in it." And by they, Liuka knew exactly who he meant, and she felt deeply for her friend. Ice dodging was the rite of passage, the birth of a warrior, for all boys of the Water Tribe. When a Water Tribe boy reached the age of fourteen, his father would take him ice dodging as his first step in being recognized as a true warrior of the tribe. The task of the ritual was for the boy to guide a boat through a narrow body of water, filled with treacherous icebergs, which the boat had to avoid.

Though there is at least one adult on board, once the ritual begins, the boy is the only person who can make decisions and direct the crew which consists of two tribe members to assist him by operating the main sail and the _jib_(a smaller sail at the rear of the boat), but he alone is in command. His skill and judgment are what makes the journey a success or a failure.

If the boy is successful, he and his crew receive the marks of the warrior, applied with cuttlefish paint. The mark of the wise is given for leadership ability and achievement in decision making under pressure. The mark of the brave is given for inspirational displays of courage. And the mark of the trusted is given to any outsiders aboard who prove themselves worthy of other people's trust. It was a tradition that had passed down many lines, but he would never take part in it. In their eyes, he was no warrior, only a _gembira_.

"Shir, they can't possibly keep you from tradition. Not even they are that powerful." Suddenly, Shir's eyes lost their cool sereneness, becoming angry and violent.

"Don't you get it, Liuka? Council will use any little excuse to make my life hell! As long as there's a potential factor that they can use, they will. It won't matter if I have Uncle Eran or not! They won't accept me now, and they never w-!" Liuka had embraced him tightly, cutting him off. Caught off guard by her sudden affection, he remained speechless.

"Please, don't be angry," she whispered into his chest. "It's not nice to see you that way."

"S-Sela..." he murmured. She looked up from his chest and smiled. He found himself smiling back, despite his boiling anger a second ago. But, of course, happy moments are never long.

"Oi_, gembira_!" Shir and Liuka looked for the source of the noise when a small gang of boisterous teenage boys entered the main village square, approaching fast. Shir separated from Liuka immediately, putting a hand calmly to his hidden waterskin.

"What do you want _now_, Flint?" he asked coldly. Flint, the leader of the gang and the one who had yelled, raised his hand and the other boys stopped along with him a safe distance a few feet away. Flint raised his hands in a peaceful, gesture, though he didn't mean it one bit.

"So _hostile_, _gembira..._"

"Don't you dare, call him that, you filthy dog!" Liuka snapped. Flint sneered her way.

"And since when did your tongue grow such barbs?" he jeered. "Be careful, or I might have to cut it out..."

"Leave her alone," Shir said, moving in front of her, taking in the other boy's features as he would look at a large pile of droppings. Flint was a head taller than him and much broader due to the torturous labors of carrying huge loads of meats and supplies from his father's successful huntings. How they had found child's clothing big enough to fit over his muscles, Shir was still clueless. A spiky topknot rested on the back of his shaved crown, connecting the mohawk stripes of hair that ran from his forehead and the back of his neck. _Traditonal muscleheaded warrior; all brawn and no brain_, thought Shir, glaring.

"And just what are _you _going to do about that, _gembira_?" Behind Flick, his friends sniggered though Shir knew they only did so to keep on Flint's good side. After all, he was only the biggest boy in the Tribe. None of them even began to compare to his size, but did they really need to with his protection? As long as they were his lackeys, they would never be touched.

"Do you really want to find out?" challenged Shir and a thin stream of water slithered up his right arm to coil menacingly at his shoulder like some kind of pet snake. The boys behind Flint cowered; they had heard legends of a Waterbender's power. Even Flint looked a little apprehensive of the tiny water snake.

"You wouldn't," Flint declared, trying to boost his own self-confidence. Puffing out his chest, he grinned. "Council would throw you out, _gembira_."

"Like they don't already _want_ _to_," Shir replied, getting the satisfaction as Flint seemed to deflate and his eyes widened a little more.

"You won't- Y-You c-can't," stuttered Flint, his intimidating demeanor slowly receding. His gang eyed him worriedly. Why hadn't he punched this kid's lights out yet? What was stopping their powerful leader? Sela stepped from behind Shir, smirking.

"You aren't so tough now, are you, Flint?"

"You, shut up! I'll take you on and this _gembira-_" Several things seemed to happen at once. Liuka moved faster than Shir had ever seen her move before, striking Flint as hard as she could muster across his face, sending his spit flying through the air. He reeled on her in an instant, moving to strike, but Shir was faster, moving through a stance that shot his little water snake sharply into a pressure point between Flint's attacking shoulder and arm, briefly paralyzing it to Flint's utter shock as his fist hung suspended in the air; his arm unable to drop itself. His followers were paralyzed themselves with wide-eyed fear.

Shir moved through another two stances, building his chi around Flint. He moved his hands in a strange pattern and Flint's body completely stiffened. Shir shifted into a crouched stance and with a slow, stretching movement he raised his dominant hand as if suspending a marionette, pulling his body out of the crouch and into a straight stance. Flint's eyes widened in horror as his body began to move, despite his brain shrieking for it to stop. Against his will, Flint's arm finally dropped and he began to follow Shir in his stance, totally subdued. Shir changed into another stance, moving his fingers now, as a puppeteer would move the strings of his puppet. The effect was the same: Flint's hand reached of its own accord to the knife sheathed on Flint's back. He could only stare in horror as his hand lifted the large bone knife from its sheath and slowly lowered the knife's tip to his exposed throat. Flint wore no jewelry or trinkets like his brothers and sisters (figuratively, speaking). Flint began to whimper as his hand moved closer and closer, locking in on a spot just above his Adam's apple. Finally decided on its target, Flint's hand gave a fatal jerk and thrust his own knife at his throat. His scream rent the air.

A boomerang of sleek, blue metal, spun through the air past Shir and Sela, and between Flint and his knife, catching it on its sleek, razored body and whirling into the nearby watchtower with a resonating _clang _that silenced and stilled everyone in the vicinity. Shir lowered his hands and released his hold on Flint who backed away fearfully from where his knife had plunged point-down into the snow, clutching at his throat as if the knife would suddenly leap up to attack him once more. Everyone looked in the direction of the thrown bladed boomerang, wondering who its wielder was. A heavyset, gnarled looking man with wild hair, bundled into several short ponytails stood, fuming. A growl rumbled in his voice. "Get the hell away from my boy, you little heathen!" he roared, advancing on Shir.

Quite swiftly, Liuka's mother moved in between the bearish man and the boy, the stirring of her light clothing and wispy hair the only signs that she had moved. Though her lined face was young, her brillant eyes were much older and wiser as they stared hard, but kindly at the grizzled man. "Abiram!" she said sharply. "There is no need to become hostile over this dispute."

"Hostile, Lior!" growled Abiram, seething. " You wanna talk about hostile! Did you not see what that- that little _freak_ was about to do_ my son_!" he screamed, causing several gasps from the surrounding women. A few more men had arrived at the scene, all of them curious to see how Abiram would punish the boy.

"I saw _exactly_ what happened, Abiram," Lior replied curtly, careful to keep her voice calm. "Your son began the offense, but I guess you just didn't _happen_ to notice_ that part_, did you?" Abiram gave the same look oh surprised hatred as his own son did when he was struck dumb across the face.

"Get outta, my way, Lior," he growled, pushing up the sleeves of his _anorak_ to reveal menacing heavily muscled hairy arms, complete mutiny to his over-sized gut.

"I will not, Abiram. So, make your choice: mow over a woman in the public eye just to beat on a child who did nothing wrong, or back down like a_ real_ man you so boast to be."

"But, he-!" the man argued heatedly.

"Was not going to harm him," a strong voice said definitely. Heads whipped around to see Eran approaching the scene, his powerfully calm aura mesmerizing everyone there. He passed Flint and his gang and halted by Shir, putting a large hand on the boy's shoulder. He looked down sternly at Shir. "_Right_?" He nodded as did Sela. Eran looked back to Abiram. "So you see, the dispute has been settled. Although, it looks to me both you and your son need to find a more productive way to spend your mornings, or else..." Eran's kind face darkened, something it just did not do. Abiram cowered under the dark gaze, losing face. "...you might end up in serious trouble. Am I clear?" Abiram nodded with a grunt, though it seemed more like a compulsive twitch.

Lior gave him a warm smile and moved aside. "Come along, Flint," grunted Abiram. "I don't think I can stand another second looking at these blood traitors." Abiram turned on his thickly booted heel, and hobbled off, Flint coming his wake. His posse dared not follow for the only person they feared more than Flint was his father. Turning back to Shir once more before he left, Flint sneered, having found his backbone again rather quickly in his father's presence.

"I'm going to get you back for this," he threatened. "And when I do, not even your magic water will save you..." And with that, he turned and left. The two tribesmen disappeared through the southern gate, and a wave of relief seemed to pass over everyone there. The current threat was gone, all was peaceful, to an extent. They returned back to their morning routines and chores, having seen enough excitement between the Tribe for one morning.

Shir forced himself to meet his uncle's eyes. "Am I in trouble?" he asked simply.

"Yes, you are, but it can wait." His uncle looked up at Lior, bowing his head. "Thank you for holding Abiram for me, I appreciate it. And I'm sure my nephew does as well."

"Thank you," muttered Shir, staring distantly at a spot on the ground. Lior smiled again, but something in her eye caught Eran's attention.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked, worried.

"Yes, there is, in fact," she replied. "Why don't you come to my shop and we can send the children onto their lesson; it should be starting soon."

"Yes, of course," Eran said. Something in his voice worried Shir, and he wanted to ask what was wrong, but his uncle had already broken away with Lior, glancing back at him with a furtive glimpse. Shir turned to Liuka.

"Something's wrong..." She nodded, having sensed it, too.

"I wonder what, though," she replied, turning and beginning to head west for their Waterbending class. Shir caught up to her in two strides and the two began along the shoreline.

"You know this is all you fault, right?" he cracked.

_I know...really long chapter, and the beginning was kind of corny, but if you endured it, thanks. Review if you can, though, I want to keep writing for any fans! Thanks. 0o_


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